has been sorting out Cork people for ages
I’d rather get a colonoscopy from a hedgehog.
I asked my Posh Cousin, where would you go if you wanted to deceive people about your life.
She said, Instagram.
My cousin the priest is an expert in theology, penance and getting a new BMW every two years.
I said, I know a guy who needs to get out of hell, what’s the church’s position on that?
He said, standing in front of his widow with our hands out.
(I call him Father Hilaire.)
My niece has a Masters in Sex and Marriage from the University of Mallow. (It’s online.) I said, what’s the average times a month number for married couple.
She said, twice, if you exclude couples in Kinsale.
I said, why are you excluding couples from Kinsale?
She said, because they’d screw the average.
I said, are you trying to get me to make a lame double entendre about Kinsale people screwing anything that moves.
She said, I am really.
I have one bit of advice alright.
Please stop pretending the Model Farm Road is all that.
I mean it’s basically Bishopstown with a slightly longer driveway.
My nephew, Thick Mick, has written an app to detect if someone is nouveau riche. (It’s called ‘Ballincollig’.)
I said, how does it work. He said you point your phone at the subject and if a muscle-bound baldy Russian guy with an earpiece takes the phone off you and smashes it on the ground, you’re looking at a multi-millionaire.
I said, no one will pay for that, you eejit.
At which point a beefcake called Boris appeared from nowhere and said, “leave Thick Mick alone.”